


Birds of a feather

by ladyPromethia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F, Fights, Fluff, Primals (Final Fantasy XIV), Smut, Tenderness, Viera Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Voidsent (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 18:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyPromethia/pseuds/ladyPromethia
Summary: When the warrior of light, Azzralis, attempts to interrupt a summoning of the primal Garuda, things go awry, and the poor viera discovers an entirely new facet to the lady of the vortex, for the worst...or the better.





	Birds of a feather

In a time not so distant, primals were thought to be proper deities, brought forth from their divine realm by the fervent prayers of their followers. However, later discoveries would unearth a whole different truth: primals are nothing but the result of our hopes and dreams. The manifestation of our desires. As such, would it not stand to reason to assume that, depending on the summoner, a primal’s personality and goals might be as night and day? That who they are is nothing more than who the poor soul calling them forth wants them to be? While such thoughts are bound to occupy scholars for the coming years, a..most glaring exemple of the primals’ nature, was about to take place, in the most unlikely way, and it would give raise to a most unexpected situation…

-

“Squaaaawk…” With a final gasp, the ixal fell to the ground. In its chest, was etched a large wound from Azzralis’s greatsword. Next to the birdman’s lifeless husk, were scattered the somber remains of the raging battle taking place within Xelphatol.

It wasn’t the first time the ixals had been stirring up trouble, and not the first time Azzralis and her fellow scions had been dispatched to stop them in their unchanging plans: the summoning of their deity, Garuda. But this time, this time was different. The beastmens were giving everything. They were defending their territory with desperate strength, and they had stolen an amount of crystal on a scale never seen before.  
While one was legitimately allowed to ponder about the possibility of the Ascians lurking behind that extraordinary display of strength, one thing was certain: lavished with such a wealth of aether, nothing, perhaps not even the famed warrior of light herself, would be able to protect Eorzea from the lady of the vortex.

“…Tis truly their last stand.” Azzralis mused, as she took a little breather from all the fighting that had led her in this hall. Behind her, the scions were still fighting for dear life, holding off the ixali forces. They had given her the opening, and as usual, it fell to her to end this resistance once and for all.

The wind was already howling…at the end of this bridge, the ritual was well on its way.  
Reaffirming her grasp on her weapon, the Viera woman started her final advance.  
To her surprise, each step came with a groan, moving was already difficult…  
she hated to admit it, but the fighting had taken a toll on her vessel. For once, this fight would be much more than a formality, and nervous as she was, catastrophic scenarios were already forming left and right within her mind. What if she lost? What would become of her friends? What of Coerthas? The twelsewoods? Eorzea?! She would have to explain her “miraculous” survival after the inevitable discovery of her lifeless vessel! Oh no, they would learn everything!! Who..what she was…the realm would lose hope, knowing their famed hero was a fiend in disguise all along, such an horror, such…

“…Look at you, always jumping to the worst-case scenarios…do I have to remind you who you are? You are a proud princess of the void! A scientist of exception! A hero amongst fiends!!” Before the pit within her stomach could reach the depths of anxiety, Azzralis recalled the words her mother always had when she was doubting herself. Twas true. She had seen the eons go by, and she had never given up. She had always gotten back up!! Twas but another tough spot, she’d come through! Clenching her teeths, she ignored the pain, and made the last, excruciating steps toward her final confrontation. The lady of the vortex would not plague the skies, not today.

-

“to undo our plans, comes the godless one...but no more, bringer of light, no more…” The raspy voice rang as the warrior arrived at the end of the suspended bridge. While she had worked up her courage, the sight which awaited her was…despair-inducing, to say the least. Four grand pillars of crystallized aether had been risen. Around them, a circle of chanting ixals was fervently calling for the succor of their divine patron.  
And between them and Azzralis, stood a gigantic birdman, easily two foot taller than his brethren. Be it his adornment, or the massive staff floating near him, everything indicated him as one of Garuda’s chosen, a priest to enact her will.

“Too late you are, fool! Almost complete, the ritual is, squaaawwk. For far too long, have you and yours oppressed us, desecrated us. It ends, today.” To accompany his threat, the priest concentrated his magic within his staff, sending a burst of wind aether onto his foe.  
And to Azzralis’, and perhaps the priest’s surprise…it was powerful enough to threaten her balance, almost making her fall over on her back. Curses, her current vessel was at its limit. As it stood, she had no chance of defeating the priest by herself, unless she abandoned her vessel and gave way to her true powers…but it was too dangerous and was likely to escalate the situation in unforeseen ways she preferred not to imagine.

No, she had a better idea. A reckless and dangerous one, much more fitting of her little sister, but it was her best shot. Indeed, she could not defeat her foe, but after all, twas not her goal, stopping the ritual was! Using an hint of her voidal magicks, she could force her way through, just long enough to disrupt the summoning, and thus ruin the aether contained within those pillars! And with such a staggering amount, the ixals were sure to take moons, perhaps even years, to return to such a threatening state!

Smiling confidently, she dropped her greatsword to the side. “Oh? Come to your senses, you have? Mercy, you should not expect. Not after all your transgressions, sqwawwwk…” The priest cackled, thinking he had triumphed. Good, his misplaced pride would make it all the easier. Flashing a confident smile, Azzralis suffused her vessel with dark energies, allowing herself to temporally ignore the toll the battle had taken on her. And then, before her foe could react, she made a run for it. Sprinting as if she weighed nothing, she darted straight to the middle of the circle, pushing aside one of the summoners in the process. And it was well she did it now, for the furious howling of the winds were only growing in intensity. Already, were the pillars glowing, transferring their aether into the circle’s center. A center where stood a singular wind-crystal, the focus for the summoning. Without it, everything would stop. All she had to do was reach for it and then-

A burst of wind stopped her right where she stood, as a bubble of raging tempest encircling the crystal, pushing her away, making her falter right in front of her prize, falling to the ground. Behind her, the priest was cackling. “Interfere, you shall not. Now…  
O, LADY OF THE VORTEX, TO OUR REALM, WE BESEECH YOU!! HEAR OUR PLIGHTS!! TO THOSE WHO WOULD ARM YOUR CHILDREN, DESTRUCTION, YOU BRING!!” Was it truly too late? The crystal was starting to glow dangerously, and the tempest raging was reaching its peak. Azzralis needed to do something, but she was at her limit…the crystal was right here, within arm’s reach…but she could not possibly…  
She had to. Mustering the last of her energy, she reached forward. As soon as her hand entered the miniature cyclone encapsulating the crystal, deadly winds scratched, sliced, tore her skin apart. The pain was unbearable, but she had to ignore it. Twas but a body amongst many, after all…With a scream of desperation, she took the focus within her hand, trying her best to shatter it. She did her best to flow her darkened aether within, just one little push should suffice…but her strength was lacking.

Confound it all. Was that it? Was she about to reach her limits now? After all she had accomplished. Twas pathetic, she was disgusted with herself. As the pain was making her lose her grip on reality, her thoughts dwelled on her mother. What would Lethice say, once she’d learn her prized daughter had failed what should have been such a simple mission? “Mother…forgive me…” were the last thoughts formed by her mind, before she lost consciousness. As everything faded to black, she could distinctively make out a most recognizable screech. It was too late, she had come, and all would suffer for her own failure.

-

“Are you well? Can you hear me?” …was someone calling to her? Slowly, Azzralis opened her eyes. How long had she been out? Before she could truly ponder her predicament, surging pain caught to her, she looked at her arm. It was completely lacerated, bleeding, the skin torn apart. She winced at the mere sight.  
…She remembered. The priest, the ritual, she had to..! Wait. Why did she yet draw breath? Would the ixals not have put her to death as soon as she faltered? Her mind and vision were still blurry, but she forced herself to ascertain her condition, nonetheless, looking in the direction of the opponent that had bested her.

The sight she beheld drew a smile on her face. There, slumped on the ground, was the presumably deceased body of the ixali priest. And next to him, were several summoners of the ritual, just as dead!! Yes, of course! The scions had likely caught up, and saved the day! She knew they would triumph, she knew-.  
Her joy was stopped dead in its tracks. Something was wrong. Horribly so. As earring returned to her proper, she could still hear them, the tumultuous winds. The raging tempest…But why? She simply could not make any sense of it. Was the ritual not halted?  
She tried to breath slowly. Everything was fine. Surely her friends had come to her rescue, and they would explain everything she needed to know in due time. After all, they had delivered her from the beastmen’s claws, had they not?

“I said, can you hear me, -mortal-?”.  
A shiver of horror went through the woman’s body. Twas not her friends’ voice, no…  
In fact, she’d recognize that tone, that high-pitched voice anywhere, twas…no.  
Please, no. Painfully, she turned around, looked up...and saw her.  
Towering above the defeated warrior, in all her terrifying glory, she stood. Looking down upon Azzralis, was Garuda, goddess of the ixals, lady of the vortex…and soon the one to have bested the warrior of light. Her energy was unlike anything the princess had seen before. Seven hells, the primal’s aether was so strong, so powerful…it was over.  
Azzralis gazed into the merciless eyes of her soon-to-be slayer. She remained silent, and shut her eyes, awaiting her inevitable end. She hoped that someone, somewhere, could still stop this herald of destruction before she brought the realm to its knees. And thus, she welcomed oblivion.

But oblivion did not come. Nay. Azzralis waited seconds…minutes…but nothing. Nothing was happening. Why? Was Garuda not eager to rip her skin apart? To, at last, remove the one obstacle to her domination of Eorzea?  
“…Must I understand you have been rendered deaf by your ordeals?” Again, the lady of the vortex spoke. But it was…different from her previous encounters with the primal. She did not feel that ever present sense of superiority in Garuda’s voice. Nor her eternal rage and anger…Slowly, Azzralis forced her eyes open…only to witness an even stranger sight than everything she had seen up to this point:  
Garuda had landed on the ground, and had extended her clawed hand to the woman’s level. And she stood, motionless, not doing anything…in fact, the way she had her arm reached out, one could almost think she was…trying to help her up?

Twas a jest. Surely this had to be. A cruel trick played by the false goddess, one of her heartless whims, she was playing with her prey!...and yet…Garuda’s face betrayed no such emotion. Why such an horrible being would be so considerate, the princess dared not imagine, but standing idle was doing nothing beneficial for her, so she might as well spring whatever traps Garuda had in store. With her good hand trembling, Azzralis shyly grabbed of the bird-woman’s large claws…which prompted, in the strangest possible way, a smile out of the divinity, who gently helped Azz get on her two feet, keeping her hand at her level, so the woman could support herself.

“Ah, so you are well…Good, I was getting truly worried…” ..She was getting what, now? What in the seven hells?? Azz looked up, hoping for a look of sarcasm, contempt, or anything that would make some remote sort of SENSE in the situation, but no. Whatever farce she was playing, Garuda had decided to take it to the extreme, her visage displaying, true, genuine worry. A most out of place look for her.  
“I remember you, quite distinctly, we fought several times…and yet, I never thought to ask…what is your name, mortal?” Once again, her voice was unbearably…soft!! This made absolutely no sense!! None, whatsoever!! But in her weakened state, Azzralis had little choice apart from playing along with this charade. “A-Azzralis…my name is Azzralis…” She shamefully answered, lowering her head.  
To this answer, Garuda brought her other hand next to the woman and…softly stroked her cheek with the back of one of her finger. It was surprisingly soft!  
“Azzralis…”She mused. “It is such a beautiful name…Can you stand? Walk? We need to find you a place to rest, and recover…” Again, words spoken in a soft, almost motherly manner…  
This simply was too much. If she had to perish, at least it would be with dignity. Rising her head with the intent of calling the primal out on her perverted ways of mocking her, Azzralis’ sight was instead caught by something, something she had not noticed in the confusion of her weakened mind earlier.  
Be it the priest, or his summoners…their bodies had been riddled with…razor-sharp feathers. Garuda’s feathers. Whatever Azzralis wanted to say, died on her lips. She looked upon the primal in pure awe. She had murdered her own followers. She had protected her. For a twisted reason she could not begin to Fathom, the lady of the vortex had indeed saved her. Her behavior was no cruel joke, no final taunt to a defeated prey: Azzralis had, with no room for doubt, attracted to herself Garuda’s affections.


End file.
